


Hell's Angel

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Apocalypse, Canonical Character Death, Castiel Has Magic, Castiel Has Nightmares, Dean Has Magic, Demon Deals, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic-Users, Sam Has Magic, Sastiel - Freeform, Sexual Content, Vampires, mentions of overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Only the magi stand between humanity, and the demons of Hell who work to end the world.Magi like Castiel Novak, who can't say no when Sam Winchester comes to him, begging Castiel to help save his brother's life from the demon who is going to take it.But no case is ever simple. Doubly so when you're busy falling in love.





	Hell's Angel

**Author's Note:**

> First up: thanks to [thedogsled](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/) for creating the amazing art that spawned this story. I'm so happy that I was able to claim it, because I just loved this idea for Cas that went with it, as this powerful magic user who was more than meets the eye. You can [check out the art masterpost here](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/167803613043/art-masterpost-for-hells-angel-so-the-image-of).
> 
> Second: thanks to the [SPN Reverse Bang](https://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com) mods for again running this bang. This is my second year taking part and it's been a blast.
> 
> Third: thanks to [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk) for being my beta on this C:
> 
> The canonical character death tag for this fic only refers to demon and vampire characters.

A dank, sickly sweet stench told Castiel that one of the human lackeys had loosened their bowels just a second ago. Pulling up the sleeves of his long, black leather coat, and his shirt sleeves, Castiel started clawing power to himself. He stepped in a puddle of blood—not his—as he walked towards Brady’s prone form.

The demon looked defeated, but Castiel wasn’t taking any chances. Blue sparks of electricity started to lap across Castiel’s bared skin, dancing between his fingers. His eyes grew dark with power.

Brady rolled over, dazed eyes looking up at Castiel. “Killing me, it won’t-”

“Won’t what?” Castiel growled out, electricity flowing over his arms and hands. “Won’t stop your kind? At this point, I don’t care.” Sam Winchester, shrieking and bellowing as he came down from an unwanted high, flashed before Castiel’s mind’s eye. “You’ll be gone.”

“I didn’t know he was your boy.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

Brady coughed, his vessel bleeding from its mouth. “Don’t deny it.”

“What I do or don’t deny to you is of no consequence. You’re heading back to Hell.”

Seeming to find his second wind, Brady jumped to his feet and dashed towards Castiel. A burst of brilliant blue energy engulfed Brady, paralyzing his body in place.

Castiel started speaking fast, an exorcism firing from his lips. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..._ ” The Latin was clear and spoken without hesitation.

Black smoke started to ooze out of Brady’s mouth and then finally his vessel was empty. Snapping back the spell he’d been using, Castiel watched as Brady’s vessel fell to the concrete floor. There was no soul left to be saved.

***

_A year earlier…_

“Are you Castiel Novak?” asked a younger man’s voice. Castiel turned to face the man, setting down the spell tome he’d just found in Singer’s Spells, Sioux Falls. It was Fall in South Dakota and Castiel was looking for some “light” reading to help through the shortening days.

He was greeted by the sight of surprisingly tall twenty-something, dark hair curled out around his ears, bright hazel eyes. Limbs impossibly long. Lips improbably perfect. Where the younger man was the face of innocence, Castiel was world weary, five o’clock shadow at midday, black hair looking like he’d just fucked.

_Keep it in check, Novak._ “Depends, who’s asking?” Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted at the young man.

“Sam, Sam Winchester.” Sam rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. The tome that Castiel had just set down wobbled on the oak table top.

_A natural, then,_ Castiel mused to himself. “I’m Castiel Novak.” He caught the eye of the store owner, Bobby Singer, across the many shelves and tables filled with books. “Hold this for me, would you?”

Bobby rolled his eyes, strolling over to the table picking up the spell tome, customary baseball cap on his head even in his own store. “You better come back for this by the end of tomorrow, or I’m putting it back out.” Bobby took the book, muttering to himself as he walked through the store over to the register.

“C’mon, Sam,” Castiel prompted, heading towards the door out of the store.

“Where are we going?” Sam jogged a little to catch up with Castiel’s surprisingly quick strides.

“ _Lafitte’s_ —I feel the need for a bowl of gumbo.”

“I didn’t come to you to go out for lunch.” Sam caught up with Castiel and easily matched his stride.

“And I don’t talk business on an empty stomach.”

“How do you know it’s about business?”

Castiel didn’t reply, he just kept walking down the street towards _Lafitte’s_ , a sweet little diner with a Louisianan edge. And a not so little Louisianian running the show.

“Hey, wait-” Sam called on after Castiel, but Castiel had his stride—he was stopping for nothing but a bowl of Benny Lafitte’s best gumbo.

The door to the diner rung a bell as Castiel stepped inside, Sam Winchester catching his breath behind him. Heading for a booth at the back, Castiel didn’t make eye contact with any of the other customers as he headed inside.

He slotted into the booth, facing the front door and Sam squeezed into the booth opposite Castiel, legs bumping against his. Castiel felt his stomach flip a little, but pushed the feeling down. _We’re here for business, and gumbo, after all_.

A waitress poured them both coffees with little prompting and left the two of them to contemplate their orders.

“What’ll it be, Cas?” Benny purred from beside the table, as if appearing from nowhere.

Looking up at the bear of a vampire, Castiel grinned. “Hey, Benny, bowl of the usual.”

“And what about your friend?”

Castiel watched as Sam looked between Benny and him, brow creased in confusion. Floundering. “T-the… um… whatever Mister Novak is having.”

Benny raised an eyebrow at Castiel, but he wrote down Sam’s order all the same. “Two bowls of some of the best gumbo you’ll ever eat, comin’ right up.”

Left alone, Sam seemed to clam up and Castiel didn’t fancy digging around in the younger man’s head to find out what the hell it was that he wanted. Deciding to have some fun, Castiel nudged Sam’s right leg under the table, making the guy jerk in his seat.

“Well?” Castiel picked up his coffee and gave Sam a pointed look.

Sam started pouring sugar into his cup. He stirred it for a few moments and then met Castiel’s eyes. “It’s my brother.”

“And?”

Drawing his hands down into his lap, Sam gave Castiel a nervous look as his spoon continued to stir of its own accord. “He made a deal.”

Castiel’s jaw ticked and the air suddenly crackled with energy, like a gathering thunderstorm. Little zaps of electricity ran down the cutlery on the table and along the spoon in Sam’s mug, which continued to stir. Sam looked ready to duck out in case he was about to be smited on the spot.

A loud “a-hem” from nearer the kitchen drew Castiel out of his mounting fury and the diner settled down. Castiel tapped his jaw with the tip of his finger.

“When?”

Sam stopped the spoon. “A few months ago.”

“How long does he have?”

“Less than a year.”

Castiel’s right eye twitched. Deals of less than ten years were unheard of. Some demon somewhere wasn’t playing fair. And that did not rub Castiel the right way.

“I-I heard you’re good at getting people out of deals?” Sam nearly whispered.

Sucking in a long breath, Castiel tried to master his emotions before he accidentally blew out all the lights in Benny’s diner. Castiel let out his breath and nodded. “What was the deal for?”

Their gazes met across the table and Castiel felt in that moment, the real weight of what Sam and his brother was going through. It made Castiel want to drop his usual wise guy act, shift around the table and wrap his arms around Sam Winchester. Kiss Sam and tell him that everything was going to be alright. That he was safe.

Sam said in a small voice, “My life.”

Benny chose that moment to return to their table, gumbo in tow. “Here ya’ go. Enjoy.”

Castiel picked up a spoon, but his appetite was gone. He stirred his gumbo, picking up some hot sauce, and put some in his gumbo out of habit. It took him a while, but Castiel finally found his words again.

“How’d you die?”

Sam finally ate a spoonful of gumbo, and chewed. “Damn that’s good… And to answer your question. I tried to stop this asshole… A demon, Azazel, from hurting some kids. He got one of those kids to stab me in the back.”

“What did the demon want with the kids?”

“Recruitment, I think.”

Castiel nodded, and took a bite of gumbo. _Damn it’s good_. He swallowed. “Hell’s recruiting. Heaven’s running. Just gonna be us magi left to protect the humans.”

Sam blushed and nodded. “Dean’s a good guy.”

“He’s not going to do us any good if he ends up on _their_ side.”

“Can you help?”

“Who’d he make the deal with?”

“Azazel… so can you help?”

Castiel nodded, but didn’t say anything as he started in on his bowl of gumbo proper. The balance between Heaven and Hell was only just kept in favor of mortals by the magi, people who were naturally gifted at magic. Either spells, telekinesis, the primal forces of the world—much like Sam had moved that book and spoon—psychic visions, talking to animals, and more. Castiel was a natural: he was gifted in summoning primal forces, reading minds, and spell work. Few could match him. Hardly any magi had that kind of juice.

It made Castiel a target, but equally it made him one of the few who could make a difference. And this deal was the chance he’d been looking for. He knew who Azazel was: a prince of Hell and one of the key drivers of the apocalypse. If that asshole was the one who made the deal, then Castiel really wanted to meet him. Not that many knew what or who the princes of Hell were.

Seeming to follow Castiel’s lead, Sam ate in silence as well as they worked through their bowls. Castiel paid up once they were done and took Sam back to his place, stopping by Singer’s on the way to pay for the spell book.

“Just a moment,” Castiel said, once they reached the door to his tenth floor apartment. “You might want to step back.”

“Okay.” Sam sounded a little worried.

“Nothing to be afraid of…” Castiel reassured, and then rolled up the sleeves of his black trench coat. He placed his hands against the red painted door, feeling for the wards that ran through the doors, windows, floors and walls of his apartment before whispering spells in Enochian to allow safe passage.

There were several clicking sounds and Castiel stopped whispering. He stepped back from the door as it opened. “C’mon, let’s see what we can do before your brother realizes you’re gone.”

Castiel could practically feel Sam’s blush from behind him as they crossed the threshold to his apartment.

“I don’t have a curfew.”

The door closed automatically, wards setting themselves back in place. Castiel put his new (well, new to him) spell book down and hummed. He picked up a soft leather pouch of scrying bones and rattled them at Sam.

“I don’t need these to tell me that the guy who sold his soul to a demon to bring his brother back from the dead, likely will freak out a bit if he doesn’t see his brother back home safely tonight.” _Which is a damn shame, because that ass deserves a sleep over._

Castiel started pulling books down from the large bookcases he kept in his living room. The floorboards creaked as he worked, pulling together the texts he’d likely need to start with. His apartment was crowded with all manner of magical things. Seating space was sparse.

“Take a pew,” Castiel called over his shoulder as he shifted some scales to get at a scroll.

“Right...” The couch creaked as Sam sat on the one corner not covered in things.

Castiel placed the small mountain of research materials down on his straining coffee table. “Step one: find how to summon the assbutt-”

“Did you just call Azazel an assbutt?”

“Step two,” Castiel continued, ignoring Sam, “we trap him. Step three: make it seem like a better deal’s about to come along—lull him into a false sense of security.”

“And then?”

“And then it’s step four: we take him for all he’s worth and save your brother as well.”

Sam gave Castiel a skeptical look. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You got all the information you need to know. The less you know, the safer you and Dean will be.”

“Why would Azazel come to you?”

Castiel picked up the first book on his pile and started flicking through it. “Because I’ll have what’s his.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dean will be the bait.”

A strangled noise came from Sam.

“He doesn’t have to stick around for the main event.” _Though you’ll have to._

The unimpressed stare that Sam returned at that statement made Castiel feel like his balls had retracted back up into his body. _Sleepover’s definitely going to have to wait._

***

“You want me to summon that son of bitch so you can… what? Get him to… let Sam die?” Dean glared at Castiel.

It was the next day. Sam was making some scales shift from side to side as he stayed out of the conversation-come-argument. Castiel could tell that Dean was capable of throwing a punch. He didn’t need purple to sport beside his pretty blues, so he waited for Dean to finish looking like he was going to murder him there and then.

Silence settled over the living room.

Castiel shook out his hands. “That’s not what’s going to happen.”

“How the hell can you be sure?!” Dean shouted. And sure the green eyed, freckled older brother with too much product in his hair and a leather jacket that Castiel wouldn’t mind owning for himself, was kinda scary, but Castiel could feel his fear.

Fear of death. The end. Leaving Sam to the next threat. The two brothers had already let Castiel know, in their own ways, their troubled upbringing. And the death of their father the previous year hadn’t made things any easier. Their mother had died when Sam was little, one of the thousands of victims in the last great battle between Heaven and Hell, before Heaven’s garrisons had had enough.

“Because Azazel’s going to be offered an even better deal. I’m going to offer him me.” It wasn’t Castiel’s usual approach for breaking deals, but deals weren’t usually made by princes of Hell.

Sam blanched and the scales wobbled before crashing to the floor. “No, Cas, you can’t do that.” The younger Winchester stood up and got in Castiel’s space.

Hearing his nickname from Sam made him blush. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

“That’s crazy. You can’t exchange Dean’s or my life for your own.” Sam’s eyes were wet and filled with brimming unsaid feelings.

Castiel swallowed, reining back his desire to lean in and take what he’d been yearning. “Don’t worry about me.”

From behind, Dean grabbed Castiel and spun him around. “You crazy son of a bitch, we can’t just let you… fuck… you can’t do this. For us. No.”

Castiel shook Dean off and went and stood away from the brothers. He looked to the floor and then he looked up, meeting Sam and Dean’s gazes. Castiel cracked his neck. “You,” the room shook a little, “don’t,” a couple of books fell down, “need to worry.”

All the lights in the room went out, and then blazed back on, all shining on Castiel. His eyes were black as ink, there was no white.

“You’re one of them!” Dean shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Castiel.

A laugh rumbled deep inside of Castiel’s chest, and he shook his head. The lights went out and then came back on, Castiel’s eyes were their usual blue and white. He wore a predatory smile as he looked at Dean and Sam.

“Not a demon.”

Dean strode towards Castiel and sloshed water over him. Nothing happened. Castiel laughed.

“That shoulda worked.” Dean looked between his flask of holy water and Castiel.

Sam took a hesitant step towards Castiel. “Cas, what are you?”

“An archmagi. So can you both stop worrying? We got a demon to go after.” _And I need to go shopping._

***

“This is what I heard...” Benny started. The diner was closed for the night. Castiel was sat in Benny’s back office, a vanilla malt shake with a drizzle of honey on top. The vampire had information on one of the key items on Castiel’s shopping list.

Maybe the brothers didn’t quite understand what an archmagi could and couldn’t do. They wouldn’t have been the first. If Azazel had been a regular demon, Castiel could have sent him packing with words and intent alone, but a prince of Hell needs more firepower than anything Castiel would be able to conjure with a spell or flash of willpower.

Benny shifted in his seat and took a slurp from the vanilla-blood malt shake he’d made for himself. “Your toy’s all the way out in Manning, Colorado. The human eating sorta vampires got hold of it, and they’re holing up. Probably waiting for the final fight. Or their nest leader wants to use it as a toothpick.”

Castiel slurped some of his shake. It was the right level of sweet, cold creamy goodness, making him hum appreciatively. “This leader got a name?”

“Luther. Bad son of a bitch from what I heard on the grapevine. I personally can’t abide his _kind_ as you well know.”

“Oh I know.” Castiel was well aware of Benny’s no-killing humans for blood rule. And it sounded like Luther’s nest was all for killing humans.

“Anyways, you know the deal. Sunlight ain’t fun. Beheading is the only way to be sure… The Winchesters gonna be tagging along?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Maybe you should, cher. Maybe you should.” Benny took a knowing sip of his shake.

***

Frigid morning air blew into Castiel’s Lincoln Continental. He’d been driving for over eight hours, and had the front passenger window cranked down to help keep him awake. Long ass drives were one of the reasons he wished he could fly, but being an archmagi meant he didn’t want to risk the lives of norms. He had a good handle on his powers most of the time, but not good enough to risk it thousands of feet in the air, potentially endangering the lives of innocents.

He was about an hour from Manning, but there was no way he could take on a nest of vampires without coffee, and some food, in his system. Hands steady on the wheel, Castiel kept an eye out for a roadside diner. Pancakes and coffee would set him right.

It was another thirty minutes, but finally a glowing sign called Castiel off the road and he parked up in the lot outside a diner. The place was just getting busy, but Castiel managed to grab a table, and get in an order for a stack of pancakes.

“Keep it coming,” Castiel said as the waitress poured him a cup of coffee. He loaded the mug up with sugar once she’d gone, and watched the lot and road outside. The day was going to be sunny, which was just what Castiel needed to make easy work of the nest.

Sure Castiel could just sneak into the nest, some deserted farm up on the back roads, and grab what he needed. But a nest of vamps that likes to kill? Castiel planned to take his sweet time with them.

The pancakes arrived and Castiel drowned them in blueberry syrup before cutting into them and taking his first mouthful of syrup covered cake. He chewed and watched the world beyond, eyes narrowing as a classic black car drew up in the lot outside.

There was something familiar about the shapes of the people on the front seat. The doors opened and Castiel started to choke on the pancake in his mouth. A slap on the back from the waitress and a glass of water sorted Castiel out as Dean and Sam Winchester walked into the diner.

Castiel gulped down the last of the water and glared at Sam and Dean as they spotted him. The brothers came over to Castiel’s table and joined him, sitting down so that Sam was next to Castiel and Dean was opposite.

Sam gave Castiel an awkward smile as their legs bumped together. Castiel started to vigorously cut into his stack of pancakes, ignoring the low throb of his now sore throat.

“We figured you could use some backup,” Sam offered after his and Dean’s orders were taken.

Castiel swallowed a mouthful of pancake and followed it with a gulp of now just-the-right-side-of-hot coffee. He glowered at Sam and Dean, letting silence fall between them.

Dean warmed his hands around his mug of coffee, while Sam started to load up his coffee with creamer and sugar. Castiel ignored them both and continued to eat his way through his pancakes.

A few minutes later, he was done, and Dean and Sam’s own stacks of pancakes were being put down. Castiel drained the last of his coffee, put cash down plus tip for his food and got up.

“Hey, Cas-” Sam looked up, confused.

Castiel wasn’t confused. _I am not leading these two into a nest of vampires. This is not happening. Nope._ He powered his way through the diner and headed out. Keys ready, Castiel approached his car, and then a hand landed on his shoulder. Castiel spun himself and his assailant, shoving them up against a side wall, non-key hand ready to curse without a moment’s warning.

“Woah, woah! Easy!” Sam placated.

Castiel let the curse fizzle out and lowered his hand. A fearful look in Sam’s eyes told Castiel that his eyes must have been black. He blinked and settled them back to normal.

“You’re not going with me.”

“But-”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“C’mon, Cas, we can handle ourselves. It’s vamps, isn’t it?”

Castiel scowled and let go of Sam. “For… Dammit, Benny.”

“Hey, it’s not Benny’s fault. Dean can be pretty convincing .”

“Oh for...” Castiel turned and went over to the car Sam and Dean had arrived in. He touched a hand to it, muttering a few well chosen words, and then headed over to his Lincoln Continental, the tan paint shining in the morning light.

Dean chose then to come running out of the diner, but Castiel was in the Continental. He fired up the engine and reversed out of his space.

Castiel rolled down the driver’s window. “Stay.” He put his foot on the gas and sped off down the highway.

***

The woods on the way to the farm were gold and red. Everything smelled of death and life at the same time, potential hunkering down for another year. The apocalypse could come any time, but life was getting on with things.

Castiel had stowed the Continental about a mile from the barn. He was downwind of his prey, hoping to give the vampires as little warning as possible. With a machete at his side, Castiel hoped he wasn’t gonna regret not stopping by a morgue to get some dead man’s blood. His spells had been enough to slow down vampires the few times he’d run into any that weren’t Benny.

Within twenty minutes, Castiel had reached the farm. Most of the buildings had fallen down, except for an old barn. He circled the wooden structure, looking for the best way in past the wooden slats with their peeling sky blue paint. Sneaking in and then making some noise was an option, and he’d be more likely to find what he wanted.

A glance upwards revealed an upper opening that would have been used to bring in straw bales to the loft. Castiel muttered a spell under his breath and jumped. His black trench coat fluttered around him as he flew through the air and then landed on the edge of the opening. He looked into the gloom within, letting his eyes adjust.

The smell of old blood hit him first. Too much spilled to leave it so obvious. When he could finally see within the barn, he could make out several huddles of sleeping bodies, in hammocks or on blanket covered piles on the floor. The upper floor of the loft had rotten through and was gone. Castiel counted nine vampires asleep in the barn. A few more than he’d handled at once before. _I’ll be fine._

Holding onto the side of the opening with his left hand, Castiel searched in his coat pockets until he found a piece of lapis lazuli on a chain. He quietly chanted a spell under his breath and the purple-blue stone started to glow. The light from the stone wasn’t particularly strong while up at the loft level, but it would grow brighter the closer he reached what he was looking for. Castiel wrapped the chain around his left wrist.

He wondered which prone form was the Luther that Benny had mentioned. With little more he could do from his safe perch, Castiel floated down to the floorboards below. The earlier spell helped him stay quiet as he tiptoed through the barn.

A snort from one vampire made Castiel stop. He looked over at the sleeping monster and saw no sign of it being awake. Satisfied he hadn’t been rumbled, Castiel kept one eye on the stone as he continued to creep around. It wasn’t until he started towards what was the far back of the barn, where the old doors had been nailed shut, that the stone started to glow brighter.

Keeping himself in check, Castiel kept his breathing shallow as he approached two vampires curled up on a pallet, blankets and quilts thrown over them. The stone grew brighter and brighter. He glanced around at the makeshift bed for any sign of what he was looking for. A box, or something wrapped in rags.

Castiel held his breath and looked down between the two vampires. By their heads was a small wooden chest, no more than a foot long. Slowly, Castiel held the stone above it and it brightened exponentially. Without another thought, Castiel stuffed the stone back in his jacket pocket, grabbed the box and started sprinting to the barn’s main doors.

“KILL HIM!” screamed a man’s voice, reaching levels that caused Castiel’s ears to sting.

The barn doors loomed ahead of Castiel. He held out his hand, palm held flat towards the tall wooden doors. “ _Patentibus!_ ” Castiel shouted and the barn doors were wrenched outwards by an unseen force, their slats splintering.

Castiel had no idea what was happening behind him as his feet thundered across the farm yard outside the barn. All he knew was that he needed to run with his prize, until maybe he could get to a position where he at least had the advantage. And the space to throw a spell or two.

Two tall figures loomed out of the woods near the yard, and for a brief moment, Castiel thought the figures were more vampires.

“CAS, GET DOWN!” shouted Dean Winchester.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Castiel dove towards the ground, curling up around the box. Instinct told him to close his eyes. Then he felt the heat of flames rushing over his body, streaking through the air. The fire must have hit his pursuers, because the vampires suddenly shrieked and cried out.

Booted feet rushed past Castiel, heading towards the vampires and he opened his eyes in time to watch Dean and Sam work their way through the burning undead. The brothers swung their machetes with practiced finesse, lobbing off the heads of vampires with ease.

Scrambling to his feet, Castiel pulled up his jacket and shirt sleeves—box under his right arm—before sending a bolt of electric blue energy at a vampire that had dodged the fire. The vamp was lifted up into the air for a brief second and then fell down, stunned. Castiel walked over, pulled out his machete and lopped off the vampire’s head.

“That all of them?” Dean called over.

Castiel surveyed the bodies on the ground. There were nine. “Yes.”

***

During the vampire hunt, Castiel’s Continental had decided it no longer wanted to work. When he’d hiked back to it, the engine wouldn’t start. He thought it might have been a flat battery, so he tried sparking it back to life using his magic.

He set the car on fire and had to summon a rain cloud to put the flames out.

Luckily, Dean and Sam were driving by in their car at that moment and offered him a ride.

“Why was your car on fire?” Sam asked, turning around in the front passenger seat so he could look at Castiel behind him.

Castiel looked down at the box on his lap. A box that he had only just saved from the flames in time. Its contents were safe, which was what really mattered. “Because I tried to charge my battery.”

Dean started to laugh. “Yeah, using magic? Oh man… You know nothing about cars. That spell you worked on Baby at the diner? I just had someone else jump start her.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and remained stiffly sat in the back. But after a while, Sam’s puppy dog eyes thawed him out, and Castiel at least smiled at Sam. His heart fluttering a little.

***

Back in Castiel’s apartment, safe behind its warding, Castiel gave into Sam and Dean’s demands to see what was in the box. Castiel wanted to finally sleep, but he knew Dean and Sam wouldn’t leave without seeing what they had gone up against a nest for.

“Fine,” Castiel grumbled, opening the box. He smiled in satisfaction as he looked over its contents.

“You took on a whole nest of vampires for some gun?” Dean pointed at it and then gave Castiel an annoyed look.

Sam reached out a hand towards the gun and then stopped. “Why this gun, Cas?”

Castiel took the gun out of the black velvet lined box. He smoothed his left hand down its shining, brassy metal, and felt the heft of the gun. It weighed more than most modern handguns. The barrel was long, and bullet chambers were waiting to be used. The inscriptions in the metal thrummed with power.

Setting the gun down, Castiel cleared his throat. “This is ‘The Colt’. A gun like no other.”

“C’mon again?” Dean pointed at the Colt. “It’s just a gun.”

“This gun can kill almost any supernatural being, except for the devil himself.”

“Oh,” Sam and Dean said in unison.

“But guess who else it can kill?”

***

When he’d shown Sam and Dean the Colt, he expected the two of them to finally home to rest up, because the next day they were going to start working on gathering what they needed to take down a prince of Hell. But where Dean had excused himself and headed off to drink with his friends Ash and Garth, Sam had stayed.

“You do realize that I want to sleep?” Castiel asked Sam as he finished securing the Colt in a safe that only he could open.

Sam looked up from the couch where he was sat, one of Castiel’s spell books open on his lap. “If you need to sleep, go crash. I really want to finish this.” He pointed at the open book.

Sighing, Castiel nodded. “Fine. If you need anything, call. Just try not to burn the place down.”

“Promise.”

Castiel nodded and headed to the small hallway that led to the apartment’s only bedroom and bathroom. He left the door partially open, in case something happened to Sam, which with all the magical junk in his living room was always a risk, and stripped off his clothes and boots.

Sinking down into his mattress, the fact that Castiel hadn’t slept in over a day finally caught up with him and he was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. His sleep wasn’t so deep that he didn’t dream, instead Castiel’s mind dragged him back to the vampire nest.

He was reaching for the wooden box, Luther and his mate fast asleep, and Castiel was afraid he would wake them. Hand touching the wooden box, he held his breath as he shifted it from the bedding.

Luther’s eyes snapped open and the vampire launched himself at Castiel, grappling Castiel until he was flat on the ground. Castiel fought against the much stronger vampire, as it leaned down and bit down into the side of Castiel’s neck, drinking from him. The pain made Castiel arch off the boards of the barn floor, and he screamed.

The pain stopped and Luther pulled off of him. Luther’s features warped from his paleness, to the rich depths of Castiel’s half-brother Raphael. Then hands wrapped around his neck and squeezed.

“It’s your fault Father’s dead. Yours and yours alone!” Raphael roared, squeezing down on Castiel’s throat.

Thrashing and clawing at Raphael did nothing to dislodge his half-brother and Castiel’s vision started to go dark.

“Wake up!” shouted a familiar voice, but Castiel couldn’t place it. “Dammit, Castiel, you’re having a nightmare: wake up!”

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and his bed thudded back to the floor, making the boards underneath creak in warning. He looked up to see a very concerned Sam standing beside his bed. Sam’s face was mostly hidden in shadow, except for around his right eye and cheek, which were dimly lit by the hallways light. Without asking, Sam sat down beside him, reached out took Castiel’s right hand in his own.

“You were having a nightmare.” Sam squeezed Castiel’s hand, the act brushing away the cold fear that had crept into Castiel’s chest.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your reading,” Castiel offered lamely.

Sam chuckled, the sound beautiful and making Castiel’s heart ache. “I was finished with the book. Don’t worry.”

Castiel looked from Sam’s hands to his shadowed face. “Thank you.”

“Do you wanna talk about it.”

“No.”

The apartment’s boiler noisily ticked over and Sam’s breathing quickened, like he was trying to make a decision about something.

Castiel was about to ask Sam if he was okay, but then Sam launched himself at Castiel, covering his body and bringing their mouths together. The kiss lasted mere seconds and then Sam pulled away a little.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked, breathing in Castiel’s air.

Castiel’s answer was to pull Sam back in, bringing their mouths together once more. He stroked his hands down Sam’s back, slipping them under his shirts. He teased the flesh there, touch feather light and leaving Sam rocking against Castiel.

Then Sam started to undress, with Castiel’s help, in-between open mouthed kisses. He slipped under the bed covers, joining Castiel, facing him. It was instinctual the way Castiel wrapped his arms around Sam, bringing their naked bodies skin close, pressing their hardening lengths together. Mouths hungry, they kissed and rocked together, finding the friction that suited them.

There was no denying that Castiel had found Sam to be beautiful since the moment he met him. But he had never dreamed that Sam, a good ten years younger than himself, would return such feelings. It was clear though—as Sam eagerly reached down between them and took their lengths in his big strong hand, and started to squeeze and stroke—that Sam felt the same about Castiel as he did about him.

Deeply breathing in the musky scent of their joint arousal, Castiel moaned into Sam’s mouth as pre-come slicked the passage of Sam’s hand. He was so impossibly hard, and the building chase of pleasure made Castiel’s stomach tighten.

“I’m gonna...” Castiel tried to warn as he caught his breath, hips rocking in time with Sam’s hand.

“I got you,” Sam murmured against Castiel’s lips, hand squeezing their leaking cocks just so. Without warning, Sam leaned down a little and started to bite and suck at Castiel’s clavicle, hard and with purpose.

“Sam!” Castiel cried as he came hotly over Sam’s hands and their bellies.

Pulling his mouth off of Castiel’s skin, Sam kissed him lightly on the lips. “Fuck, Cas!” Sam whimpered a second later, hips stuttering as he came. And Castiel brought their mouths together, stealing Sam’s air and heightening the sensation of his release.

When they’d finally caught their breaths, Castiel retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, and cleaned the two of them up. Sam welcomed Castiel back into his bed and allowed Castiel to turn him into the little spoon. Castiel nuzzled the back of Sam’s neck, body relaxed and sated.

“Sam,” Castiel started, testing to see if he had fallen asleep.

“Yes, Cas?” Sam yawned.

“My half-brother tried to kill me when I was younger.”

“Woah.” Sam seemed awake again. He turned in Castiel’s arms and faced him, or as best as he could in the dark.

“He thought I killed our Father.”

“Did you?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. He was experimenting with a spell and it… went wrong. But because I’m an archmagi and was in the house at the time...”

“He thought you did it.”

Nothing else was said for a few minutes while they stroked each other’s sides. Castiel cleared his throat. “I would understand if you didn’t… want this to go beyond tonight.”

Sam scooted closer and brought his lips to Castiel’s. The kiss was warm and reassuring, containing a surprising amount of love for a man who had only known him for a few days.

“I want this for more than just tonight, Cas.” Sam kissed Castiel again. Castiel didn’t know what to say to that, so he held Sam as close as he could, stroking a hand up and down Sam’s back until he drifted back to sleep.

Sweeter dreams found Castiel the second time he fell asleep that night.

***

“Hoho,” Benny chuckled the following morning when Castiel went to the main counter in the diner in the hunt for more hot sauce to go on his eggs.

Dean and Sam were sat in a booth, going over the plan that the three of them had been putting together. There were a few more supplies needed, but they would be summoning Azazel within a week.

Castiel glared at Benny, who smirked, eyes lingering on the skin exposed by the open buttons of Castiel’s shirt. “Oh for...” Castiel pulled his shirt over the love bite.

“He’s a biter, huh?” Benny teased with a waggle of his eyebrows. “You shoulda said something, cher.” Benny winked and passed Castiel a fresh bottle of hot sauce.

“You’re impossible, do you know that, Benny Lafitte? Impossible.” Castiel stalked off with the hot sauce.

He sat back down, next to Sam and Dean. Placing the sauce down after adding some to his eggs, he caught Dean staring at the top of his chest. Dean met Castiel’s gaze and gave him a knowing look that also said “you hurt him, I will kill you”, and Castiel didn’t doubt it.

***

Once they had supplies for a summoning ritual, they chose an abandoned warehouse just on the edge of the city limits. A week had past since the trip to Manning, Colorado. If things went south, at least no one else would be hurt in the immediate vicinity. Since learning Castiel was an archmagi, Dean had been giving Castiel a wider berth. It was annoying, if Castiel was being honest with himself.

But he should have expected it. Archmagi were rare, and what people knew of archmagi was tales of them going ballistic and murdering entire towns. Castiel had long since learned that it was just a few bad eggs who’d done such things—archmagi weren’t inherently destructive. They were just really fucking powerful. But the stigma was there, regardless. Just as his half-brother Raphael had proven to him when their father died.

_Just gonna have to show them_ _Raphael was wrong_. Castiel knew how to keep himself in check and use his powers for good. The Colt was a reassuring presence in his jacket pocket, reminding Castiel that he could do this, so long as he could get close enough to use it.

The truck Dean had borrowed to haul Castiel’s supplies was old and loud. But Castiel didn’t say a thing as the three of them drove out to the warehouse—no one was looking forward to moving the pedestal that Castiel had insisted on bringing. It was a necessary item in the spellcraft Castiel needed to work… and should the inevitable happen to Sam when the contract was broken, it would boost Castiel’s powers enough to help him save Sam.

They didn’t see another soul as they parked the truck up inside the warehouse. Sam helped close the sliding doors, hiding them from view. Getting out of the truck, Castiel walked around to its flatbed and started shifting the stone pedestal that would help him in keeping Azazel from killing them all.

Princes of Hell were powerful beings, but Castiel knew enough to be dangerous too.

“How’s any of this going to get Dean out of his deal?” Sam asked as he helped Castiel to lower the pedestal onto a sack-truck

“With Azazel gone for good, all his existing contracts will be broken.”

“Hold up—could I die again?”

Castiel sat on the edge of the flatbed, looking uncomfortable. It was just him and Sam, Dean was busy setting up an altar further into the warehouse.

“Don’t worry, I should be able to bring you back if you did die. That’s why you’re here.”

“That’s reassuring.” Sam gave Castiel what Dean had described as one of his “bitchfaces”. “You haven’t told Dean I might die again.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Sam looked over to where Dean was carefully assembling the altar. “No.”

Shoving off of the flatbed, Castiel walked past Sam, patting his shoulder before grabbing the handles of the sack-truck and heading towards Dean with the pedestal. Part of Castiel just wanted the job to be over with, because he knew just how much could go wrong. _But it’s worth a shot. We’re all gonna die eventually if we don’t do something to stop the demons._

Reaching Dean, Castiel set down the sack-truck. The altar was almost ready, a cloth with markings for the Sigil of Saturn. A bronze bowl flanked by two fat red candles was the centerpiece. Vials of acacia and oil of Abrameli waited to be added to the bowl with a few other things. Dean was fiddling with a knife, but as soon as he saw Castiel he set the silver blade down.

“I need that,” Castiel pointed at the pedestal, “about ten feet from here, facing it.”

“Why don’t you shift it?”

“Because I need to sort out a safe space for you two assbutts.”

Dean was about to take the handle of the sack-truck, but he stopped on “assbutts”. “What kind of a word is that? ‘Assbutts’?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m gonna go make your playpen now.”

Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel stomped off, away from where Azazel was going to finally meet his comeuppance, and the tides would shift in this war. He grabbed some paint from the truck, ignoring Sam, and set to work on drawing out a devil’s trap on the poured concrete floor. The paint was red.

Whispers drifted over to where Castiel was working, but he didn’t eavesdrop on the brothers. It took a while to get the devil’s trap painted to Castiel’s exacting specifications, but he wanted to be sure nothing demonic would end up getting to Sam, or Dean, once they were inside it too. For extra measures, Castiel put a ring of salt around the outside of the trap.

Sam walked over to Castiel just as he finished the salt. “Cas?”

Castiel put the salt can down and regarded Sam. They had enjoyed several nights together like the one they had shared after Manning. Sam looked smaller than usual now that the full reality of what they were about to do was staring at him. Taking a step into Sam’s space, Castiel reached out his right hand and gently stroked Sam’s cheek.

“We’re making it through this. Azazel doesn’t stand a chance.” Castiel patted the pocket where the loaded Colt was.

Sam nodded, took a step closer. “Don’t let him take Dean.” Sam kissed Castiel on the cheek and then stepped into the devil’s trap. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

A few minutes later, Dean was stood at the altar, knife ready, oils added to the bowl’s other ingredients. Castiel was sat on the pedestal. The pedestal’s markings would make it seem like an ordinary piece of masonry as far as Azazel was concerned, but it would help boost Castiel’s natural talents.

Castiel nodded to Dean. In one careful motion, Dean cut across his palm and bled into the bronze bowl, chanting from memory the words, “ _Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, coram me..._ ” He then clicked his fingers and set the contents of the bowl on fire.

One moment the space in front of the altar was empty and then it wasn’t. Azazel stood there, his back to Castiel. The demon was tall, dressed in jeans and a dark woolen sweater.

“Dean, Dean, Dean… a little early for a rendezvous, don’t ya think? You still got time,” Azazel greeted, husky voice almost hiding an edge of cruel surety.

“I was hoping we could maybe, y’know, re-negotiate.” Dean’s expression was stoic, giving nothing away.

“Dean, you don’t exactly have a lot of real estate to bring to the table at the moment.”

“What about an archmagi?” Dean motioned behind Azazel, towards Castiel.

The prince of Hell spun, his eyes catching sight of Castiel. Azazel’s eyes were yellow and made Castiel feel uncomfortable. “Well now, aren’t you a rare sight.”

“I suppose I am.”

Azazel licked his lips hungrily. “Why switch places, huh?” Azazel seemed to finally spot Sam and gave him a wave. “Oh, I get it. You’ve fallen for that cutie patooie over there, haven’t you? Wow, sacrificing yourself for some weird greater good, where you don’t get the guy.”

“You and I both know you could use an archmagi among your forces.”

Yellow eyes narrowing, Azazel grinned like a shark might, if sharks could grin. “Well, it’s true. You would be an upgrade from ol’ Deano. And who am I to question the self-sacrificing sort, I get a soul either way.”

“Will you take me in Dean’s place and allow Sam to live?” Castiel offered.

Azazel gave Castiel a thoughtful look and nodded. “You’ll be dying when he would have.”

Castiel nodded. “Acceptable.”

Azazel gave Castiel a considered look. “Fine. I accept. Now come here so we can seal the deal.”

Castiel was well aware what Azazel meant by that. He slid off the pedestal and walked over to the demon. Hand itching to pull out the Colt, Castiel got into Azazel’s space and waited.

“You’re sure?” Azazel asked again.

“I’m sure.”

Before Castiel could think or do anything else, Azazel’s mouth was on his own. The kiss was claiming and surprisingly heated on Azazel’s part. The stench of sulfur filled Castiel’s nostrils, but he reached into his jacket pocket while fighting back the urge to vomit. He pulled out the Colt cocked it and pushed the barrel against Azazel’s temple.

For one second, Castiel thought everything was going to work out, but before he could pull the trigger, Azazel threw Castiel from him, sending the Colt flying into the air. Castiel landed heavily on the warehouse floor, the air knocked from him.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, scrambling from behind the altar as Azazel marched on Castiel’s prone form.

“Oh, we do not have time for double crossing, son,” Azazel snarled, rounding on Castiel.

Sam shouted something, but all Castiel heard as panic roared in his ears was Dean ordering him to duck. Castiel quickly curled up in a ball as a wave of flames rushed through the air towards Azazel.

The demon screamed and bellowed, flesh cooking. Castiel chanced a look and saw Azazel’s burning form approaching Dean and Sam. Dean held the Colt in shaking hands.

“Give that to me,” Azazel demanded, hand outstretched. Rather than the gun flying to the demon, as Azazel had clearly intended, Castiel drew upon the pedestal’s extra strength to counter Azazel’s powers.

The Colt stayed in Dean’s hands and he pulled the trigger. Castiel used his will to keep Azazel in place and the bullet pierced the heart of the vessel the demon inhabited. There was a flash of bright orange light from within Azazel’s vessel and then he crumpled to the ground, dead.

What flames had been left burned out, and Azazel’s smoking corpse laid unmoving on the warehouse floor. Castiel looked to Sam and was pleased to see that Sam was still up and breathing.

Castiel got to his feet and hurried over to Sam. Ignoring Dean, Castiel swept Sam into his arms and kissed him.

“I’m right here, you know!” Dean grumbled. “Oh for… get a room you two!”

Sam flipped Dean the bird.

***

When Dean and Castiel survived past the deadline Azazel had given them, Dean, Sam and Castiel went on a night out on the town. Hell was running scared.

It was why, months later, Sam was finally attacked by a demon occupying his former best friend, Brady. The overdose of distilled demon blood, a powerful and addictive narcotic to magi, almost killed Sam.

Dean was waiting for Castiel at the hospital once he had dealt with the demon that had almost cost him the love of his life. Castiel’s nightmares were going to be haunted by the sight of Sam unconscious and hardly breathing. At least it was some new imagery for his unforgiving imagination to work with.

“He’s gonna make it,” Dean announced in a hoarse voice as the two of them stood watching Sam as he slept in a hospital bed.

Tubes and wires were stuck to and sticking out all over the place. An oxygen mask covered Sam’s face.

“Good.”

“You find the son of a bitch who did this?”

Castiel nodded. “We need more bullets for the Colt. That kills them outright.”

Dean knew what Castiel meant by “them”. “Once Sam’s on his feet again, we’ll go find us a way to make more. And then we’re ending this.”

“Understood.”

Dean coughed. “And then you better make an honest man out of my brother.”

For a second, Castiel’s brain didn’t understand what Dean had said. He looked to Dean and took in the knowing smirk. Castiel blushed. “Deal.”

Sam coughed from behind the oxygen mask, his eyes fluttering open. “Did you just propose?” he said in a hoarse voice.

In a heartbeat Castiel was at Sam’s side. He gently cradled Sam’s left hand between his own, in a million years he’d never hoped to ask this question. “Sam… will you marry me?”

Sam gazed up into Castiel’s eyes, tears brimming. “Yes,” he finally answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this. Kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


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